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Ginette Fecteau moves quickly to a small room in her tidy condo. On the wall are pictures of Sébastien Courcy in military uniform. One shows him in camouflage gear, his handsome face smeared black, branches and leaves jutting from his helmet.

Fecteau clicks on a desktop video and Sébastien comes alive.

It’s a blinding bright day in Afghanistan, bleached desert stretching as far as the eye can see. Sébastien is wearing a bulletproof vest on top of a T-shirt that shows off bulging biceps. His arms are straight out and a gun is in each hand. He turns to the camera with a big smile: “Hi mom,” he shouts.

Then he opens fire at a wooden pallet, squeezing the trigger until both clips are empty.

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“That’s my guy,” Fecteau says.

Sebastien Courcy visited his mother before leaving for Afghanistan in March 2009. He bought his girlfriend a car and gave his sister letters to send in case he died. (Lucas Oleniuk / Toronto Star)

Days after that video, Sébastien became the 125th Canadian soldier killed in Afghanistan. He was 26 years old.

“Someone once asked me, ‘Would you have let him join the army, now that you know what happens?’ Well, yes,” Fecteau says. “It’s awful that my son died, but the army was his dream.”

Sébastien Courcy was born in 1983 on a cold but sunny March morning in Saint-Hyacinthe, an agricultural town east of Montreal. His parents divorced when he was 9. Sébastien moved in with his mother; his older sister, Julie, went to live with his father, Marc Courcy.

He grew up in Saint-Marc-sur-Richelieu, where a park now bears his name. Except for the time he threw snowballs at cars, and got stopped by police, he gave his mother little trouble. He loved war games and never outgrew a fascination with guns.

Looking good was a priority. He was tall, preferred a shaved head to his naturally wavy locks, and hit the gym regularly. At his high school prom, he borrowed a look from his action hero, James Bond — he was the only student wearing a white tuxedo jacket. “He was so proud,” his mother says.

After high school he bounced from one minimum wage job to another. He helped with expenses at home but the time eventually came for a motherly push.

“I told him, ‘Either you go back to school and study for a good profession that pays well, or you join the army — you’re always talking about the army. Make a choice; I give you 15 days.’”

Ginette Fecteau in the kitchen of her Saint-Basil-le-Grand home outside of Montreal. Her son, Sebastien Courcy, was killed while serving in Afghanistan. (LUCAS OLENIUK / TORONTO STAR)

He joined in 2006. The day he completed training was the happiest of his life. His superiors praised his spit and polish; his army buddies, teasingly, called him “princess.”

He was a soldier in the 2nd Battalion, Royal 22nd Regiment — the historic Vandoos — based in Valcartier, Quebec. He cut a dashing figure in uniform: women at local bars, he’d boast to his mother, regularly bought him drinks.

“He loved the job,” Fecteau says. “He would come and visit on weekends with a sparkle in his eye.”

In March 2009, Sébastien was sent to Afghanistan. He visited his mother before leaving. He insisted she take him off life support if he ended up horribly wounded. And he gave his sister letters to send to family members, his best friend and his girlfriend if he died.

Then he bought his girlfriend a car. “That’s just like him,” Fecteau says. “I called him Mother Teresa.”

On July 15, 2009, he called his mother from Afghanistan. The connection was bad. He asked if she had mailed the protein drinks he wanted. “You know, mom,” he suddenly added, “the more we move forward, the more dangerous it gets.” He said nothing of the reconnaissance mission the next day.

Sébastien was standing on high ground in the Panjwai district, about 17 kilometres southwest of Kandahar city. A landmine exploded — Fecteau says her son may have stepped on it — and blasted his torn body down a cliff.

“He was dead before he hit the ground,” she says.

“When you bring a child into the world, it starts from down here,” she adds, placing her hands in the area of her womb. “When they told me he was dead, that’s where the pain started, too. It grabbed my insides and moved up until I exploded. I couldn’t stop crying.”

Then came Sébastien’s letter: “Hello my beautiful Gigi! If you are reading this it means I unfortunately did not come back! I just wanted to thank you for being such a good mother! It’s thanks to you that I became the good little boy I am today . . .

“I could never thank you enough for all that you did for me just as I could never find the right words to tell you how much I love you and how proud I am to be your son . . . I will always be by your side and I will look after you!”

Sebastien Courcy was the 125th Canadian soldier killed in Afghanistan. He was 26 years old.

Fecteau, 63, fell deep into depression. She retired from her secretarial job at Hydro Quebec. A once active, outgoing woman, she shut herself from the world. She snapped back to life 25 months ago when her granddaughter, Ophélie, was born.

She believes Canada had no business being in Afghanistan but holds no grudges against the military. She’ll be in Ottawa May 9 for the national ceremony to honour soldiers killed in Afghanistan.

In July, Fecteau will host an annual gathering of her son’s closest friends. They’ll stand around a large, framed portrait of Sébastien on Fecteau’s fireplace, drink beer, eat pizza and tell stories of the young man with an athlete’s body and a big heart.

The Star travelled across Canada to talk with families about the relatives they lost to Canada’s 12-year involvement in Afghanistan. Our series of photographs, videos and stories will run in the newspaper and on thestar.com all next week.

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